


Mourning

by hydesboy



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydesboy/pseuds/hydesboy
Summary: Lydia is experiencing the real sad hours and requires the presence of her grossest friend to cheer her up
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Mourning

Adam looked at Barbara, his own uncertainty mirrored back at him in the face of his wife. They'd agreed it was the best course of action, and yet they were still utterly plagued with doubt.

"Oh, I don't know about this, Adam, remember what happened last time?"

"I could be here fifty years later and I still won't be able to forget," Adam shuddered, "But everything else we've done hasn't done any good. Besides, he's her friend so surely he won't make things worse," he paused, and at a glance from his wife, added, "Point taken, but its worth a try."

The ghost took a breath, not that he really needed to breath since he was, well, dead, but he hadn't quite lost the habit of it. As he looked over the model town - it really was a marvelous thing, and Adam was not ashamed to say that he was proud of it - trying to catch sight of the unpleasant specter that had managed to get himself stuck there somehow, he found himself tapping his fingers on the underside of the table that it sat upon.

"Beetlejuice,"

"Beetlejuice,"

Adam paused, looking silently at Barbara as if searching for approval. She nodded despite the doubt that had not at all been lessened.

"Beetlejuice!"

"It took ya long enough!" a horribly raspy voice exclaimed, the owner there of throwing his arms around the couple, pulling them together and, unfortunately, smooching each of them, "I thought I was gonna be stuck in the model forever, and I'm not what you'd call a 'model citizen'!"

As the newly summoned ghost through his head back in a laugh, the other two wiped their mouths, looking far from impressed. From the very moment that the self proclaimed Ghost with the Most had arrived in all of his unpleasant glory, the room was filled with the smell of mold and mildew, and the rot of something long dead. It was a smell that had a way of playing on the back of one's throat, making even those with a strong constitution gag on the first time they were assaulted with it. The Maitlands, thankfully, were all too accustomed to it by this stage.

Beetlejuice, when he had at the very least mostly settled himself from his prolonged fit of laughter, he set about picking at his teeth with one long since bloodstained finger, the other scratching the back of his head through the ratty, greasy gold that was his hair. What could only be described as grave dirt fell from his hair, but thankfully nothing else accompanied it.

"Beetlejuice," Barbara began, "It's Lydia."

"Is it? I thought it was a fruit beetle m'self." he rumbled in reply, his attention towards the still moving insect that he'd just pulled out from between his teeth. With a shrug, the stripe clad ghost tossed the unfortunate beetle into his mouth like one might with popcorn or grapes. Grapes, more likely, due to the tragically audible popping crunch when he bit down on it.

"No, not the beetle!" she replied, a touch of exasperation in her voice, "That was disgusting by the way," the one she was addressing simply shrugged, "Lydia is the reason why we called you here."

"She's upset and she won't tell us why." Adam added.

"An' you had ta get an expert in, hey?" returned the foul beast, tugging on his suit breast, "A'ight, I'll do it," said he as if he had pondered upon the matter in the few seconds it took to release his clothes again, "Where is she?"

Lydia Deetz was positively miserable. Perched on her bed, wearing an aesthetically unappealing combination of pajama pants - the softest ones she had, the dark purple one with smiling bats all wearing hats printed on it - and her school shirt, as if she had given up getting changed in one way or another halfway, she held a pillow up to her face where she could muffle her weeping as she sat in her sad little huddle. It was a sad sight to see, in fact it was the sort of sight that could easily break the heart of anyone who happened upon it.

"Babes?" a voice from the direction of the end of her bed called out. In his defense, this came across as soft as he could be, which wasn't all that soft but at least he was trying, so that had to count for something.

"Go away." she mumbled out through the pillow.

"Yer mom and dad sent me in ta check on you." he continued, not going away.

"Dad and Delia aren't here." Lydia corrected, peering ever so slightly up over the pillow before she went back to burying her head in the pillow like a confused ostrich. "She took him out for the day."

"Oh, not them," the ghost responded, "Yer ghost mom and ghost dad. They said you had your sad time boots on. What's up, Lyds?"

Even though Beetlejuice sat himself down on the bed, it didn't shift for he was but a ghost. Perhaps if he were still in the Netherworld, or had been summoned by someone still of the living he would have made a dent, but now he might as well have not been there based on how little impact he could have on the world of the living.

"Doesn't matter." Lydia returned, shaking her head just a little.

"Don't look like nothin' ta me, kiddo," came the spirit's response, "Tell your ol' pal what's gotcha down in the dumps, an' not the fun sorta dump but the not fun emotional dumps."

The silence grew between them. The it grew some more. Then some more after that, and kept growing until it got to the point where it might have become sentient, or at the very least all sounds that had existed or would one day exist had been stolen away leaving in its place a silent hellscape.

"I'm not leavin' 'til you tell me what's wrong."

With an exasperated sigh, Lydia pulled the pillow away from her face, revealing her tear stained cheeks, her eyes wide and sorrowful, tears still streaming down her face and not seeming to be relenting any time soon. She sniffled thrice and then brought a balled up fist up to rub at her eyes.

"Fine," she relented, "Dad's not here and today's the anniversary of, you know..."  
She looked to be about to return to her pillow again, but Beetlejuice put a hand out to catch it. Without a corporeal form, his hand went right through it but the point was made nonetheless.

"Of...?"

The silence began to stretch out far too long again, but before he had to intervene again, she took a big, strong breath.  
"Of my mom's, my actual mom mom's death." Her voice shook, and the last syllable ended in a gasping sob.

"Aw, Lyds," said he, more so at her reaction than the matter of death. He was dead after all, "I'm sure it was nothin' personal."

Charles, at that precise moment was being dragged around a public park by Delia, doing what she was calling a 'happy-walk' so that the tragic day wouldn't be stained by nothing but bad memories. There was nothing in the world that he would want to be doing less, wishing he was back home with his daughter sharing in their shared grief. But no, he was being made to look into a pond.

"Then why isn't he here?" she exclaimed, pain ripping through her voice, "It's like he doesn't even care!"

"Death hits everyone different, ya know? But he shoulda been here." Beetlejuice nodded sagely, "No one's gonna react the same way when someone dies, that's just how it is."

"Of course you can think like that!" The pillow flew through the ghost's head. "You're already dead! And so is she! But at least you're here! Why couldn't she still be here, Beetlejuice?"

Her set of exclamations fell away into hacking sobs of such an intensity that the poor child's whole body shook something fierce. Having flung her pillow away, she was left with nothing but her hands to catch her tears as they fell.

"Why couldn't she still be here?" she repeated, "I can see you, and Barbara, and Adam, but I can't see her!"

The ghost shifted awkwardly, fidgeting nervously and generally giving off a vibe of 'I'm very suspicious!' and 'I know many things that you don't!' and unfortunately he did a dreadful job of trying to hide this. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Lydia leaned forward towards the ghost.

"Why can I not see her?"

"How would I know? I ain't an expert on ghosts. Ask Adam. I can't know everythin'. Who are we talkin' 'bout? I don't know the extent of what you can and can't do!"

"Beej!" she almost shouted, catching him before he continued his ramble. "I can't see the ghost of my mother. Why is that?"

His response was muffled by looking away, talking behind his hand, and into his shoulder all at once. In fact, he wasn't able to look back at her at all, cementing the fact that he knew more than he'd let on. Oh how he hated the strange and unfamiliar feeling he was experiencing at that moment. The feeling was a feeling of guilt.

"Why is that?" Lydia repeated stubbornly.

"She didn't wanna see ya." he mumbled out after a series of 'hmms' and 'ahs'.

"What?"

"She didn't wanna see ya, Lyds, what can I tell ya?"

"Well," she started, a fresh flood of tears now falling silently, uninterrupted in their river down her face, "You could start with how you know that."

After a good handful of moment's of silence, he eventually replied with,  
"Whole truth?"

"Whole truth." Lydia confirmed.

"When I first metcha," Beetlejuice began, letting out an earnest sigh, "You were in a state like this, an' so when I went back to the Netherwold I tolds m'self 'You'll find 'er that mom of 'er's an' bring 'er back!' an', well, I did."

"You've met my mom and never thought to tell me?" she asked when the quiet suggested that he'd presently stopped talking.

"It wasn't my idea. She asked me not to!" he let this hang in the air for several beats, "She knew that if ya knew she was there then ya wouldn't want to come back 'ere, and she wanted ta see ya live, Lydia." All this serious didn't suit him one little bit, and yet he was managing to do an almost decent job of it. "She said she's not gonna letcha join 'er 'til yer all old an' grey and joined 'er of nat'ral causes and a buncha stories to tell 'er."

"Did she really say that, or are you making it up to try and make me feel better?" the young girl sniffled, looking up at the ghost with the start of a hopeful glimmer making itself known in her eyes for the first time that day.

"She really said it."

"Promise?"

He went to reply with 'would I lie to you?' but given that yes, yes he would, he echoed her response of,  
"Promise."

"Now," said he, "Speakin' of, I have a little somethin' on me that she told me ta give ta ya. I wasn't 'sposed ta 'til yer older, bu' yer gettin' older with every minute, so I don't think she'd mind. Before I can give it, ya just gotta-" He let the fact he could shove his hand through the bed fill in the rest of his statement for him.

Letting out a feeble little laugh, Lydia nodded. She waited until the ghost had skulked his way into the mirror before taking a deep breath. Once more she wiped away tears before stretching her arms out wide.

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!"

Now that he was there properly, the very first thing he did was practically crash into her with the intensity he flung himself at her to hug her, wanting to comfort his very best friend. The second thing he did was far more meaningful.

Beetlejuice placed, into Lydia's outstretched hand, the very same necklace that her mother, Emily Deetz, had been wearing when they buried her. It was a simple thing, silver chained with a neat little onyx stone in the center, but Emily had loved the thing and wore it more than the rest of her jewelry combined.

Lydia broke down once more into sobs, the necklace clasped tight to her heart as if afraid to ever let it go.


End file.
